Traffic

If you note the date of the last blog I have written, you will come to know that since long my writing has become more and more sporadic. The thing to wonder is, even I don’t know what or who to blame this thing on, because I do consider writing an important part of me. And how this important thing is slowly getting eradicated is a cause for concern. I can blame it on the usual,
work stress, getting busy and all but lets not get into that.

As with great authors and amateurs alike the rains are a good source of inspiration to rekindle the flame.

In Mumbai the rains mean a lot of things to a lot of people. Lot of rains means more water and consequently less water cuts, good crops and consequently less food prices, potholes and consequently more car breakdowns and maintenance bills.

I consider myself a true ‘urban’ite and so the single most important thing on any given working day is to face the prospect of wading through the traffic chaos and reaching the office on time. Twice - one for each trip to and from office. Good crops and no water cuts be damned.

In the nine months since I have learnt to drive, I have become quite numb to reckless drivers and the slander of fellow drivers alike. It pays to have your car centrally locked, to switch on some music and try to relax as much as the roads and fellow drivers allow you to.

In the rush to reach home, I particularly regard pedestrians walking on the road with utter disdain. Same goes for the cyclists too who are driving at the middle of road. At times you actually do not care whether you bump into them a little, purposefully or not. They are no more than utter nuisances which impede our speed and safety while reaching home.

So on this particular day it so happened that I was stuck in a jam on a rainy evening. It was one of those jams in which even the seasoned abuser and honker just gave up and sat quietly, reclining his/her back fully which otherwise would have been on the edge of the seat, ready to pounce and start a series of verbal volleys somewhere else.

I was no better and I obviously was doing the same thing as described above. I did one better and had my hands resting behind my head and just using the clutch and brake to accelerate the car a few centimeters ahead each time. Just another day at office.

Or so I thought.

Slowly, the dumper truck, which had broke down came into view just around the signal. These dumper trucks have a tendency to break down during rush hour with alarming regularity causing much agony to other drivers. Fortunately, I could see that the road ahead was clear and the traffic was zipping ahead from that point onwards. But I had a good ten minutes to myself with just my ipod to give company.

At the signal, the useless pedestrians try to cross the road even though the government has built a foot over bridge just above them. The pedestrians prefer trying to get killed each time rather than walk on that bridge. It so happened that I saw a old man standing on the edge of the divider trying to cross the road each time he could see a gap in traffic. But as with most, he had no luck crossing it. People younger were having a tough time and this old man was in for a long wait. I could make out that he had probably realized the same thing.

Tough thing for a old man to be standing in the rain with just an umbrella for protection and trying to cross the road.

When that old man was just ahead of me I took pity on him and stopped my car so that his ordeal would come to an end and all the other fellow drivers would have one less useless pedestrian to deal with. And then it happened.

Like a newly hatched egg, out of nowhere a small head bobbed up. The little kid’s small but agile eyes carefully peering at my direction. That small little head disappeared again and the old man meanwhile started to step down the divider.

The other drivers behind me had started honking. But the driver besides me had stopped too. Her facial expression was just like me, trying to get this over and done with.

As soon as the man was on the road, the small little head had bobbed up again. This time holding one crutch which he rapidly rested under that old man’s shoulder. Now they started to cross the road. The old man’s face flinching each time he had to take the step. The little kid just held the old mans hand and walked ahead of him with the same agile and sharp eyes looking out for any miscreant driver that might ruin the task at hand.

After a full minute the task was over. The gentle look of the old man and the relaxed eyes of the little kid was all I got as a token of appreciation for my good deed.

It was enough for me. Enough for the driver besides me. And enough for me to break my shell of arrogance.

Being a good human being had taken precedence now.

Damn the drivers.

Life goes on in the city as it used too.